


we are stardust (we've got to get ourselves back)

by lizimajig



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, IN SPAAAAACE, Star Trek AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizimajig/pseuds/lizimajig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Whatever you need to do, do it fast. We need to get those boys off that ship and get out of here before their reinforcements arrive." </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Like on cue, there was a crash. With their shields up and judging by how distant it sounded Jemma couldn't imagine it did much damage. Still, it was enough to put her on high alert. Comms were out, and Fitz was on that ship.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>She turned and ran.</i></p><p> </p><p>Love and Hydra in a time of Starfleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are stardust (we've got to get ourselves back)

**Author's Note:**

> Do not own, etc. Believe me, if I owned Agents of SHIELD things would be going differently. All mistakes are my own, please forgive me.

The morning started off normal enough.

Chief Engineer Leo Fitz woke up reluctantly with his alarm, complaining to the computer the whole time. He had never considered himself a morning person, and when you were in space you became truly aware of how arbitrary concepts like "time" were. And at least when you were planetside, you had a day and night to straighten you out! But things being what they were, Fitz's alarm went off about 0600, and if it was a good day he usually made it out of his quarters and down to the engine room by 0630.

Their ship was not a large one, compared to other classes of vessel; the _USS Eagle_ , a mere Miranda class vehicle retro-fitted for their purposes. Fitz had made most of the modifications himself at the captain's request: upgraded the warp core, automated more processes so the ship could run on a smaller crew, and gave the weapons and cloaking systems a much needed overhaul. It was damn good work by anyone's standards, and even though Coulson was the captain, Fitz couldn't help but feeling like the _Eagle_ was as much his ship as it was Coulson's.

He wasn't down there for long. If something that required his attention had occurred overnight they would have woken him up rather than waited, but it was good for routine to check the status of things in the engine room. He liked having his hands on, and taking readings for himself and being in the room. The K.O.E.N.I.G. androids that kept the place running in his absence alongside a couple of enlisted mechanics did their job well, but if Leo Fitz had to be on a ship, he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

Breakfast was as it had been for the last several weeks. Fitz sat and ate while Skye chattered on, turning between him and Jemma, while he attempted not to get caught staring at Jemma. It was a funny thing, being in love with your best friend -- funny peculiar, not funny hilarious. There was nothing hilarious about noticing each little highlight in her hair, the small smile she wore while she listened to Skye, or how the bright sciences blue complimented her. 

Or how startled she looked when she actually did catch him staring.

He hurriedly dropped his eyes to his tray. He dared not look back up to see if she was still looking, instead he concentrated on the fact that Skye was still talking. "I should go," he mumbled.

Skye interrupted her story. "So soon?" she asked. If he didn't know better -- no, she was in fact teasing him. He couldn't look at her either.

"Well. One of the K.O.E.N.I.G.s was... picking up strange transmissions. Just have to -- to reset him," he lied, not at all smoothly.

"Clean installs! My favorite. Good luck," she said brightly.

"Good luck," Jemma echoed, and he looked back at her. She was giving him that smile, where she was covering up some other emotion and the smile was tight and controlled, rather than effusive and genuine. He felt a little guilty, returned the smile in kind, and took the opportunity to disappear back to the engine room.

\---

Jemma could do nothing but watch him go. Her small smile turned into a pensive frown; she didn't know what was going on with her best friend anymore. She'd tried asking, more than once, but he merely protested and pushed past it, which of course did nothing to quiet her mind over it. She realized Skye hadn't continued with her tale, but instead sat there and stared back at her. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"Jemma," Skye started sweetly, "I couldn't help but notice that you and Fitz are not doing your usual psychic-link thing."

"He probably didn't sleep well." It was a terrible excuse but the best she could do quickly.

"Well I know he does love his beauty sleep, but it hasn't been just right now. It's been awhile."

"Skye, that's -- " 

"The truth and you know it."

Jemma sighed. "I don't know what's happened. He's just... shut off. If I said or did something..."

"I don't think you did anything wrong," Skye assured her. 

"Then what else?" From the look Skye was giving her she thought she must have been particularly thick. "You know, I should just ask him. He'll be honest with me."

"... Yes," Skye said slowly. "That. That sounds like a good idea." 

She said it as though it weren't, or like there was something Jemma was missing. "What?" Jemma asked.

"No, you should do that!" she replied in a chirp. "Look, I have to get on the bridge. You... go do what you have to do, and let me know how it goes."

Jemma was about to protest and ask what that was supposed to mean, but relented when Skye was up and gone before she could put it into words. She sighed, and cleared her own tray and made her way to the med bay.

Med bay was empty as usual -- it was hardly ever occupied except when something went awry, but keeping the med bay clean and orderly gave her a place to start her day. From med bay she moved to the lab next door, which was a bit more difficult to keep in good order with samples and paperwork stacked here and there. On any given day, she had as good a chance as finding Fitz up here as she did down in the heart of the ship, but that had changed as well.

If there had been a clear indication that they were growing apart, or something of the kind, it may not have hit her so suddenly. They hadn't had an argument, not that she remembered, and the best she could figure was that he was feeling homesick and resented her for it. Or what if something had happened to his mother back on Earth and he couldn't do anything about it? Though she thought he would have told her if something happened, she was the one who had put their names in the running for assignment under Coulson and was probably as good a target as any for frustration. _Why join Starfleet if you were going to stay on the ground, Fitz?_ And now she wondered if that desire would have been worth losing the best friend she'd ever had -- the only best friend, if she was honest.

An hour or so was enough time to dwell on it and drive her completely crazy. She left the lab and took the lift down, down, down to the engine room and was met by one of the K.O.E.N.I.G.s. "Dr. Simmons!" 

She smiled in response. "Hello..." Which one was this? They all had people names and it was only respectful to call them as such. "Billy?"

If an android could have blushed with pleasure, she was sure this one (Billy, apparently) would be. "That's me! It's so nice to see you down here. We haven't had nearly enough of that recently."

Her smile faded a little, but she did her best to keep it on. "Yes, it has been quite awhile. Fitz said he would be down here, is he busy?"

"Busy?" She could almost hear the hard drive spinning that much faster. "I don't believe so."

"Great." Except she sort of was hoping the answer would have been 'yes very much so' so that she would have an excuse to turn around, go back to the lab, and forget she ever had this bright idea. 

She took a breath and made one determined step toward the sliding doors that separated the lift vestibule from the heat and noise of the engine room, when Billy cried, "Wait! Identification?"

He had startled her into stopping short, and she released the breath she'd gasped in. Right. The K.O.E.N.I.G.s were nothing if not sticklers for identification, which she suppose made sense for a computer. Didn't matter if they recognized you on sight, they wanted to make sure. "Of course," she replied, and showed her badge.

He scanned it, and smiled widely when it accepted her credentials as though there had been any doubt as to her identity. "Checks out! Thanks, Dr. Simmons."

"Thank you, Billy." She walked through the doors and stood for a moment on the platform, scanning through the multi-level deck to try and find Fitz. If he didn't know she was coming, that would make it easier.

As it turned out, he was right below her at a welding station, working, and she took the steps two at a time. "Fitz!" she shouted over the din and hubbub once she got close enough.

He jumped, turned off the torch, and lifted the visor. "Jemma!" he shouted back up at her. "You. You really shouldn't sneak up on a man when he's welding."

"I need to talk to you," she said, continuing to come down the staircase.

"This is -- a very dangerous workspace!" he protested.

"Yes, yes, all right," she replied, hitting the floor. "This will only take a moment. Why are you angry with me?"

He froze, opened his mouth, and closed it again. "It -- that's ridiculous, Jem -- Simmons, I'm not angry."

The denial didn't come fast and hard, which meant she could only assume it was the truth. "Then what is it?" she asked. "You've barely spoken to me in weeks; won't even look me in the eye."

He opened his mouth again, but didn't answer right away again. "I. It's nothing." And before she could protest he turned and started to walk away. She felt her cheeks go warm. So _that's_ how they were going to play this.

"Fitz, you can't just walk away from me!" she called, giving chase.

"Well I'm bloody well trying but you're not making it easy, I'll give you that!" he shouted back. 

Luckily it was pretty easy to keep pace with him, but even if it wasn't she knew where he was headed. There was a small room on the central level that might generously be called an office, or at least that's how it was intended to be used. Fitz used it more as a store room for spare parts or broken things he would try to fix or break down to obtain said spare parts. There was even a desk that wasn't so much used as a desk as another place to store small bits and tools, and there was an internal visual feed from the bridge that could also be used to communicate with them.

It seemed like a pretty silly choice to make, considering he'd effectively cornered himself for her. "If you're not angry at me, what is it?" she asked, standing in front of him, mere inches separating them. "Do you want to go home?"

"Do I -- ?" He said it like it was something completely ridiculous instead of her best guess. "Jemma, no that's... no."

"Then what? Fitz!" she cried when he looked like he was about to dismiss her again. He said nothing for a moment, only looking back at her. Now she felt badly for yelling, and would have apologized if not for the high-pitched alarm that indicated a distress beacon. It took their attention off each other for the moment, as they watched the screen.

\---

" _This is First Officer John Garrett of the USS Iliad. I am requesting aid as to the best of your ability, as quickly as possible. Our ship was in neutral space when we were attacked and disabled by Klingon pirates. We have some injured crew and a few dead. I regret that our ability to receive incoming transmissions has been destroyed so we must rely on this message reaching someone. You should be able to dock on our starboard side, it remains undamaged. Please send help ASAP._ " He gave coordinates, and from there, the message began to repeat itself.

Fitz didn't have to guess what Coulson would do next. Another Federation ship in trouble? His hesitation would last only as long as it took his First Officer, Melinda May, to take them up herself. His communicator jingled, and Coulson's voice came from it before he could respond. "Fitz, I need you to report to the bridge. Bring Simmons."

He pressed the button to talk back. "You know, sir, we _are_ separate people and not attached at the hip -- "

Jemma interrupted him. "Heard, sir. We’re on our way."

Bloody Simmons. He wasn't angry with her, couldn't be, but it was hard to not be annoyed at this point. "Coming?" she asked lightly.

"I should be asking _you_ ," he pointed out. Yeah, that made sense, good job Fitz. He needed to shut up and hurry. "Well, come on, let's back the way you came."

She turned on her heel and went first without looking to see if he was following after. _Shit._ He wanted to yell after her that he was sorry, he was being a prat and it had nothing to do with anything beside the fact that he was a bloody coward. But she was already moving at a pace impossible to keep up with if he wanted to do that, so he ran after. The lift ride up the decks was chilly; it was apparent that even if he wasn't angry with her he'd been successful at making her angry at him.

When they arrived, Coulson was already giving out orders. May had put the ship in flight to the coordinates provided and was also filling in whatever blanks Coulson may have missed, questioning him not to be a destabilizing force but a balancing one. "FitzSimmons." He turned to them. "Fitz, you're going to come with me and Ward, see if what was damaged can be repaired enough to get them limping back to a station. Simmons, we won't know how many injured there are or what state they might be in until we get on site, so just make sure you're prepared. We'll make sure you have hands to help."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, and Fitz winced slightly. Speaking together really didn't do much for the insistence that they were two separate people, did it? 

"All right. Grab whatever tools you might need, meet us at the port docking station," he replied.

To avoid saying more dumb things, Fitz simply gave a nod, and as he turned, caught Jemma's eye. Her look seemed to say that she was sorry and as always, _be careful._ He nodded his understanding, completed his turn, and went.

He didn't start to have a bad feeling until he was standing in the docking bay with Ward and Coulson, looking out the thick glass window. "Don't see a lot of damage to the outside," he mused. "You'd think there'd be more, Klingons being the trigger-happy folk they are."

"There are ways to disable a ship that don't include shooting at it," Ward said with his usual stony countenance. He seemed a bit nervous, but Fitz knew that he had served first under John Garrett and he had been a mentor to him, so he figured he just wanted to make sure the man was okay.

"Ways that Klingons would use?" Coulson said wryly, but before either of them could answer, May came over the comms. 

" _Docking in ten... nine... eight..._ " Her countdown went on as the process completed itself, and with minimal grinding, right on the money. Fitz could pilot a ship if he had to, but he was convinced there was no better in the Fleet than Melinda May. She could take the largest ship they had and land it on a dime, and if they could get a dishwasher to fly she could land it and it would be the smoothest landing you'd ever had.

The doors opened, and they stepped into the internal dock before the door to the _Iliad_ hissed open. Fitz had never heard a starship so quiet. 

"All right, Ward and I will start up at the bridge and work our way down looking for the survivors. Fitz, you'll be okay alone to check out the engine?" Coulson asked.

"Yes, sir."

" _Besides, he has me on comms, Captain, he'll hardly be alone,_ " Skye said in their ears from their seat on the bridge. 

"Just who I always wanted for the voice in my head," Fitz responded wryly. "I'll be in touch."

"Good luck," Coulson wished him, and he and Ward separated from Fitz, looking to go up while he looked for the way down. 

\---

Back on the _Eagle_ , Skye sat monitoring communications and trying to keep things light. Jemma had stayed for the moment, listening in -- no use setting up med bay beyond what she already had if there would be no need for it. " _All right,_ " Fitz said, " _Skye, where am I headed?_ "

"Uh, not as down as you think." She had a schematic open in front of her. "You should find the service lift at the end of the corridor you came in on, and that'll take you right down to the room. Or, if that's not working, you can take the stairs."

" _Yeah, it's going to be the stairs,_ " he replied and then sighed. " _How many flights down?_ " 

"All of them. Just head down until you can't anymore." She switched off for a moment, and gave Jemma a grin before looking back at her monitors. "I probably shouldn't send him in circles, should I? Have to admit, the temptation's staring me in the face," she said.

Jemma smiled a bit, a tight nervous smile that she was sure barely registered. She noticed that Skye still had the original transmission on in the background, looping around and around. "Is there something unusual about the transmission?" she asked.

"Well." Skye hesitated. "I didn't think so at first, but when I put it on the visualizer..." She brought the window where it was playing to the foreground. "You can see all the markings, looking like a normal message, right? But there were these periodic high points -- " She pointed at the spikes that Jemma couldn't really hear in the message, but saw clear as day. "So I wanted to check them out, but I've been busy directing Fitz."

"I see," she said. "And what could they be?"

"Well, it could be just about anything," Skye replied. "Though my bet's on high frequency interference or -- OW, SHIT!"

Even May winced at the high-pitched electronic squeal, and Jemma had never known her to flinch at anything. Skye responded by ripping off her headset and throwing it, though it didn't travel far. The second it hit the touch screen it went silent again. "Skye, what was that?" May demanded.

"It..." She looked at the console in front of her almost helplessly. She picked up her headset again and tried hitting the buttons to reset. "Whatever it was it took out my comms."

"'Took out'?" 

"I can't reach any of the guys." She put the headset back on, and Jemma had never seen anyone go so pale. "May. May, you have to hear this."

"Play it."

"I changed the levels and..." Unable to explain further, she played the transmission again for all three of them to hear. Jemma could hear the original message, though at a lower tone, so it was more like a noise in the background than the message meant to be heard. What played instead at the high frequency chilled her bones.

" _... HAIL HYDRA... RESPOND TO COORDINATES... MAXIMUM FIRE... HAIL HYDRA..._ " The message went on and on a handful of times before repeating with the original transmission. If there was something new in there, Jemma didn't hear it.

"Hydra was defeated," she said, not as confidently as she wanted to. The movement that had wanted to be the Federation's military arm had been subsumed and disbanded years ago, long before any of them had even been born. Hadn't it?

"Maybe not as thoroughly as we thought," May said grimly. "Can you bring comms back up?" 

"I'm trying, whatever... whatever happened fried me pretty good."

"Whatever you need to do, do it fast. We need to get those boys off that ship and get out of here before their reinforcements arrive." 

Like on cue, there was a crash. With their shields up and judging by how distant it sounded Jemma couldn't imagine it did much damage. Still, it was enough to put her on high alert. Comms were out, and Fitz was on that ship.

She turned and ran.

She might have heard May calling her name, ordering her to remain where she was, but it was all lost through the sound of her boots pounding the floor and her heartbeat in her ears.

\---

On the _Iliad_ , Fitz was making no headway with determining what the trouble with their engine may have been. Some of the electrics had been fried, sure, but on a ship this size there were backups upon backups. The warp core was running a little warmer than he would have liked to see, but that wasn't unusual. He was trying to run a diagnostic on all systems but the computer wasn't having it. There was the distant rumble of what sounded like thunder, but out here it was more likely one of the ships getting hit. 

Nothing for it, he was going to have to make a whirlwind tour of the engine room and make a visual evaluation. "Hey Skye, the computer isn't cooperating, I'm going to have to look at it with my own two eyes. Shouldn't take but maybe ten minutes to see what I need to see, you read?" 

There was nothing in his ear, not even static. He frowned. He hadn't turned it off, that he was sure of. "Skye?" No reply, even as he switched channels looking for her. They were all equally dead.

This was going a bit beyond a niggling feeling in the back of his brain; it was now a full blown sense of dread that sat in the pit of his stomach and crept its icy way up into his chest. He began trying to tap into the ship's communications and found that he was locked out.

No. This was not right. He picked his tools back up and left the control room to head back up the stairs.

"Fitz!" His name was being called from the top of the stairwell.

"Jemma?" He looked up from where he stood on the landing, and all those flights up there she was, the fluorescent lights surrounding her head like a halo. He didn't waste any time in taking the stairs two at a time. "What's going on?"

"Fitz, it's a trap. Hydra sent the signal. I... we don't know how, but we have to get off this ship. There's more coming and we have to grab Coulson and Ward before -- "

"Don't move."

Jemma had gone silent, and the voice interrupting her was all too familiar. "Ward!" Fitz cried, still moving upward, his breathing coming a little harder now. "Didn't you hear her? Where did you leave Coulson, we all need to leave -- "

"I said don't move."

He stopped short on the landing right below where Jemma and Ward stood, a phaser pointed at her and another pointed down at him. Something told him neither were set on stun. For a moment he was too stunned to speak, literally dumbstruck. "Ward," he started, but found he didn't know what else to say to that.

"Hold on to something," he told them. "We're going to be getting out of here in a moment."

"What is that supposed to -- " Fitz didn't have time to finish the question; there was a lurch and the sound of groaning steel as the two ships broke apart -- at least, that was the only thing he could figure would make such a terrible noise. He fell forward into the stairs, while Jemma and Ward were knocked back. 

"Come on!" Fitz called to Jemma, reaching up to her. She fought against the rapidly shifting gravity to grab his hand, but by the time they'd recovered enough to possibly make a getaway, but Ward had recovered too. 

"Stop!" he shouted at them, and he cut a fierce figure indeed. He'd hit his head on the railing, and now blood was running down his face. His phasers were pointed at them both.

"And what do you mean to do precisely if we don't?" Jemma asked crisply, in that tone that always made Fitz think twice about whatever it was he'd done to earn that tone.

"If you don't? I'll shoot him." He primed the phaser. "I was told to tie up loose ends, Garrett wasn't specific about how."

Garrett, _of course._ How stupid they'd been. "He's Hydra," Fitz realized. "And he took you into the fold, when you were a cadet, didn't he?" 

The carefully blank look on Ward's face said it all, and he reached where they stood warily on the landing. "Down to K deck. Go."

They were on a ship controlled by a militaristic subgroup long thought to be gone, going who knows where, and that was not good, but they weren't hopeless yet. Fitz let Jemma go in front of him, and they climbed the stairs back down to K. What was on K? The brig? Storage? He wracked his brain, but he was drawing a blank. "Ward," he said instead, "whatever Garrett told you to do, you don't have to. We've had good times, right?" They had. No one laughed the way Ward laughed when they were faking it.

"I had a job, Fitz." He had to give Ward credit for one thing, he was stone cold when he wanted to be -- or needed to be. "That's all it was."

"Nah. I don't believe that." He could feel his legs shaking a little, did they see it? "We had our moments at first, but we respect each other, right?"

"Fitz, stop it, look at him, he doesn't care. He doesn't care one bit! He'd shoot us and throw us out the airlock if Garrett told him to," Jemma put in, fury burning in her tone. 

Fitz glanced from her to Ward just in time to see the tiny crack in his façade. The crack that showed him how hurt the other man was underneath, and how much he didn't want to do this. He just had to keep exploiting that crack and widen it until it could no longer hide what was inside.

They reached Deck K and the minute they stepped into the corridor and came to the small hangar just on the other side, he remembered what it contained: emergency escape pods. Most big enough for only one person, but some built for two. Most had already been jettisoned -- Fitz shuddered to think of how recently and who or what they may have contained -- but there was one, waiting for them. "Ward -- "

There was another groan, a shudder, and the lights flickered as they abruptly dropped out of the low warp speed they'd been flying at. This ship was limping along, it wasn't going to go that much further if they didn't fix their engines. "The warp core's running hot and can't go for long. I'm guessing the cooling system got damaged when Garrett and others were trying to do cosmetic damage only. Let Jemma go. I'll stay and fix it."

"Fitz!" Jemma began to protest, overrun by Ward's response.

"I can't do that," he said, almost robotically and more stoic than ever. He pressed the panel and the doors to the escape pod opened. "Get in."

For a moment, none of them moved. "Ward. I know you don't want to do this," Fitz finally said quietly.

"You don't know anything!" The outburst surprised both him and Jemma; he really didn't think it was going to take that much to throw him off. "Now get in the pod. Before I shoot you."

"What's the difference if you do?" Jemma shot back.

Ward pointed his phaser at Fitz. "You first, Lieutenant Simmons." 

The look Jemma gave him would have made the devil himself stop in his tracks, but she complied and stepped on board without a word. Ward then looked at Fitz expectantly, phaser still leveled in his direction.

"Don't do this, Ward." It was close to begging. "You don't have to do this. You have a choice."

Ward didn't answer. He didn't have to, the only thing Fitz could see written on his face was anguish. He stepped forward, pressing the tip of the phaser into his chest, and backed him slowly into the pod. The doors closed with a soft _woosh_ , its two occupants on board. 

"No," he said sadly. "I don't."

He pressed the button to eject them. Fitz was sure he was yelling, but all he could hear was Jemma's scream. 

\---

They hurtled through space.

He would have imagined it would be loud out here in space, with only a bit of glass between them and the vast nothingness, but logically he knew that wouldn't be so. Sound couldn't travel in a vacuum, but the eerie silence was somehow worse.

Being ejected from the _Iliad_ without being belted in thrust them into the ceiling -- or, really, the front of the escape pod but the ceiling compared to how they had entered the pod from the ship proper. His head smarted something awful now, but Jemma had hit the corner of the console and he could see that she was unconscious, blood trickling from her hairline. He wanted to check closer, but if he didn't get them secured there might not be enough left of the two of them for him to do so. Fighting against the force with which they hurtled towards the planet below, he struggled to belt Jemma in to one jump seat and then himself in the second.

It was just in time to hit the atmosphere with a jolt, and there was the cacophony he'd been listening for. Air rushed around them, almost sounding like a scream, while the computer pleasantly informed them of their rapidly decreasing altitude. One bit of good luck was that the autopilot was engaged; Fitz wasn't sure he could have reached for the console if he wanted to. One hand was gripping the seat below him and the other arm was thrown across Jemma's shoulders, doing its best to keep her upright.

Even with the autopilot, it wasn't going to be an easy landing, and he braced himself for impact, surprised that instead of being dashed against rocks or right into an active volcano there was instead an enormous splash. His stomach dipped as the escape pod abruptly changed direction, floating back up. He gasped for breath as they broke the surface, as though he hadn't been able to breathe all along, and there they floated like a cork in a bathtub. "Computer," he finally said shakily, "where are we?"

" _Amphitrite_ ," the computer answered cheerfully, and he groaned. Amphitrite was a water planet with -- " _No known Starfleet presence._ "

Shit.

He squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt, how was he only noticing now? "Set up distress signal, broadcast long range. Maintain life support system as long as possible."

" _My pleasure, sir._ "

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, thoughts swirling in his mind. They'd been dropped from what must have been low orbit, and by Ward! Ward was their friend, or so they'd believed. Fitz couldn't claim to have a ton of experience, but he was pretty sure friends didn't drop friends on uninhabited planets to die. 

His stomach turned. _To die._ He didn't know precisely what their chances of being found in the chaos Starfleet now found itself embroiled in before they died for one reason or another, but he wasn't confident about them being very good. 

He turned his head to glance at Jemma beside him. She was still unconscious, slumped over with her neck at what had to be an uncomfortable angle, leaving hair strewn across her cheek. As though without his permission, his hand reached out and pushed the hair off her face. She was breathing, and the trickle of blood from her hairline looked even more stark in the light from Amphitrite's moon and the stars beyond. Beautiful, even, in a macabre sort of way. "Please wake up," he murmured.

No, maybe it would be better if she didn't. It was selfish to want company like this. If she could remain asleep and oblivious that would be better, wouldn't it?

Even so, he couldn't look away from her. _I should have told her. I should have told her while I could._ Would it have made things different? He doubted it. They would still be here but the awful feeling in his stomach would still be there.

He turned back to the console and worked on finding some way to boost their distress signal, not having a lot of success by the time he heard a soft moan coming from the seat next to him. When he finally worked up the courage to glance over, Jemma was blinking rapidly as though trying to focus once again. "Fitz..." she groaned. "Where -- where are we?"

"Amphitrite," he replied, knowing the name would not be lost on her. Indeed, she sighed and he saw her body sag in the seat. "We're emitting a distress signal, but..."

"But even if someone does pick it up, the upheaval may prevent them from coming for us," she completed numbly.

He felt terrible, and wanted to apologize, like this is somehow his fault or he could have prevented it just by sheer force of will. "Yeah."

She sighed again, a quick exhalation that covered tears rather than a noise of exasperation. _Tell her, you have absolutely nothing to lose at this point._

He ignored the voice and again worked on the console. _If we get out of this,_ he promised himself, knowing how wildly unlikely that was. _If we get out of this and can actually have a chance, I'll say something._

\---

The promise to himself had the combined effect of giving him something to push for and the relief of putting off the dreaded confession. But there came a point where he had done all he could do, and all they could do was wait. "How long is night on Amphitrite?" he asked Jemma. It seemed like something she would know.

"Their rotation is longer than Earth's, I think closer to thirty-six hours. Of course, night would depend on the tilt of the axis and where we are," she recited. She sounded a bit more relaxed, but Jemma always had liked knowing the answers to things. "Why?"

There were a number of reasons. "We might be easier to see during the day," he said. "By... anyone looking."

"Or anything?" she provided. 

"I'm trying not to think about the possible wildlife that may harass us, thank you," he replied, a bit shorter than he'd intended. _Shut up, Fitz._

If Jemma was annoyed by his snap, she didn't show it; merely shifted to lay back against the headrest on the seat. "Yes, I suppose night is better," she said. "We might not see anything coming, and it's kind of a lovely view, isn't it?"

Fitz looked up through the glass. It was a cloudless night (admittedly, he wasn't sure there was any other kind, here) and without any light pollution that was common both in Glasgow where he'd grown up and San Francisco where they'd attended Starfleet Academy, the stars were indeed brilliant. He couldn't pick out any constellations, of course, and their moon was larger than Earth's. He wondered if it could have a tidal effect if there was no land to be affected by it. "It's something," he answered, a bit lamely.

"This is why I wanted to leave Earth," she said after another moment. "Not -- not the being stuck on a planet to... obviously not. But to see what no one else has, study the things no one's studied before..."

"To boldly go?" he put in, a bit sarcastically, but she was smiling back at him.

"To boldly go," she echoed. "And... I wanted to do it with you, because you're my best friend and things are better when I'm with you."

His face flushed, and he felt ashamed of his flippant answers. "I know," he replied. "I mean. I know that's why you asked me." _I went because things have meaning when you're around, and you're brilliant, I'd miss you too much, I wouldn't want to do this without you, TELL HER, you great prat._ But he said nothing more, and she turned back to looking out the window.

"I can't say I'm ready for the growing possibility of our death, but maybe it won't be so bad this way," she finally said. He saw her turn to him out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think?"

"Depends, probably," he said, contemplating it. "If the life support and flotation systems hold out, we'll probably starve first. If either of those gives out, we'll suffocate or drown. Or get eaten by a giant fish but I don't fancy that one so much."

"No, me neither," she said. "I don't think I would so much mind being dead but becoming dead is another story."

The difference was splitting hairs, to a certain point, but he couldn't argue with the sentiment otherwise. "My mum once said it'll be like how things were before you were born, and that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"That's sweet." He supposed so; it had worked in comforting him when he was a child and was still doing the trick twenty years later. "I like to think of the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy is created -- "

"Or destroyed," he joined her in completing it. There was a little smile on his face, and he glanced at her. It was mirrored on her face, and he felt the pang in his chest grow stronger.

"After all, we were once stars," she said, looking back out the window, but he couldn't look away from her. Her eyes were bright and she was about as breathtaking as he'd ever seen her. "Before our planet came into existence, we were just atoms hurtling through space. We could have just as easily been one of those stars out there, or a microbe living in the water below us. And maybe we were! Parts of us could have been anything. Animals, stars, rain, even air. And long after we're gone those parts are going to keep on to be part of something else."

His heart ached terribly. "Jemma -- "

He didn't realize he'd spoken until she looked back at him, and his stomach turned. "Please don't be cross with me," she said. "Not now. Even if you were before... I couldn't stand it if we ended up stuck here for the rest of our lives and I thought we were going to die with you still cross with me."

She may as well have struck him across the face. He winced as though he'd taken a physical blow, and kept his eyes closed. "I'm not angry. Or cross, or irritated, or..." Why, why now? And would being stuck in an escape pod with that knowledge be any better? "You said I was your best friend but you're more than that, you're -- "

"Fitz -- "

"No, _please_ let me say this or it'll never come out." He sighed, and wondered for a moment if it even would. "It. You're more than that, Jemma, you're..." Frustration overcame him, words were not happening the way he would like. "I love you. Not just as my friend, as... I couldn't tell you before, I didn't have the courage. And now..."

"Fitz," she repeated, and reached over to take his hand. He let her, a little dumbfounded, and truthfully, too upset to stop her. Her hand was cold, but it made him think of something his Gran used to say: "cold hands, warm heart." He squeezed it in return. "It... I'm glad you told me."

Was that it? "Yeah," he replied, too embarrassed to say anything else. She didn't say anything either. At least she hadn't tried to abandon ship.

All there was to do was wait, her hand in his. That would be enough, he decided.

\---

Jemma wished she could say Fitz's confession wasn't a surprise. How big of an idiot was she, to not have seen her best friend and known? And how did she feel?

Fitz's hand was warm around hers, and she'd decided almost immediately that if this was how it had to end, this wasn't so bad. With her best friend who loved her more than anything. How she felt was harder to say.

Since meeting him, she had never been able to picture a future without him -- whether that was in Starfleet, working together for decades to come or a personal future with some faceless husband or children, he was always there and the idea of him not being with her was anathema. She would do anything to make him happy, when something good happened he was the first person she wanted to tell, and if something bad occurred he was the one she would seek comfort from. He was the most interesting person she knew and it had been that way for ten years. 

Did that mean she was in love, too? She didn't know.

In any event, with the likelihood that the rest of their lives would be a short time with a relatively drawn out and unpleasant death, it didn't seem like the time or the place to worry about it. So she held his hand like it was the only thing keeping her alive, and they waited.

As fervently as she'd praised the view before, it became quite old and she began wishing for any other view -- just to be off Amphitrite and safe again. She'd even take the same old view of the night sky she used to see from her childhood bedroom in her parents' house. They both began to doze as the night wore on and the adrenaline faded, never letting go of one another.

Jemma was asleep when a frantic beeping sounded and started her awake. She was alert quickly, while Fitz grumbled and rubbed his eyes. It was no longer night, but the sky was definitely lighter. She hurriedly scanned her eyes over the console. At first she was afraid something on the life support system had gone awry, but then her heart skipped a beat. "Fitz! Fitz, wake up!" she shouted before punching in the "Receive Transmission" on the display.

The reception was weak at first, but it cleared up quickly. " -- _you down there? Repeat, this is the USS Intrepid, we are reading your distress signal and signs of life, are you able to respond?"_

"Yes!" Jemma cried, almost laughing. "Yes, we are able! This is Lieutenant Jemma Simmons, and I have Lieutenant Leo Fitz -- " 

" _Oh, we know who you are, ma'am._ " Whoever was on the other end was smiling, she could hear it in their voice. " _We were told where we'd be able to find you, glad you're safe. Are you both able to be transported?_ " 

"Yes, for the love of god! Get us off this godforsaken primordial soup bowl," Fitz yelled, and Jemma could see it was starting to sink in for him: they weren't going to die out here. They would be all right. 

" _Yessir. We have a lock on your locations. Hold on tight._ " 

Even though she knew it was an expression, Jemma held on to Fitz's hand extra tight. Her smile was so big she could feel her cheeks beginning to hurt, and in the second before being beamed up she saw him mirror it back to her. 

Somewhere between the surface of Amphitrite and the transporting pad aboard the _Intrepid_ \-- maybe it was the way she was taken apart and put together at the other end, or how she never felt his hand leave hers -- something changed, and when she materialized alongside him she knew what her answer was, how she felt, and what she wanted to do. She let go of his hand, only in order to take his face in her hands and kiss him on the mouth. 

She knew it probably wasn't what a first kiss should be, or that he may later try to write it off as the excitement of their impending death being cancelled, but in that moment she was only happy that he was with her, and she could take all the time in the world to let herself be in love with him, too. 

His shock eventually disappeared, and he began to kiss her back in earnest. It was unfortunately short lived, as the man at the transporter controls coughed politely -- because of course they weren't alone. 

She pulled back quickly, blushing fiercely, as the ship's medical officer approached and insisted on checking them both over (which, given that she'd been bleeding and they'd both been knocked around in their descent, was admittedly a good idea), and promises of food and drink once that had been accomplished. But she barely heard any of it, instead looking back at Fitz, trying to memorize the look on his face. 

"Yeah," he answered the medical officer, at first without taking his eyes off her. Then he looked away with some reluctance. "Yeah. I reckon I'm a bit peckish." 

His hand found hers again as they were led away and she knew as long as she could hold on to that whenever she needed, things would end up all right. 


End file.
